


Wishbone

by britishshoe



Series: Siken Series [1]
Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: M/M, fluff on the surface angst below
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 15:11:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18195845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britishshoe/pseuds/britishshoe
Summary: I’m pulling you out of the burning buildings and you say “I’ll give you anything.”But you never come through.





	Wishbone

**Author's Note:**

> based on the poem Wishbone by Richard Siken.

“Where is she?” He’s locking the door behind him and slipping off his shoes, padding into the master bedroom.

“Gone,” the voice is small and muffled when it finally comes.

“Gone to where,” he is continuing through the room to the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge.

“Gone,” it sounds even weaker than before, muffled in the goose feather comforter that lays bunched up over it. When he peels it back, what lies underneath reacts painfully, as if a bandage has been yanked off.

“Jiyong,” he’s hesitant toward the little form in front of him, dashed and downtrodden like an abandoned child. He moves his hand over sweaty hair, careful not to catch his fingers in the tangles. “How long have you been in bed?”

He doesn’t answer. He just lies there, holding his elbows like they will keep him grounded to reality. There’s a stiff silence and a sigh, and a lack of protest when he’s scooped up.

“What are you doing?” It’s his turn to be silent now, only letting out a groan when he places him back on his feet. They’re in the bathroom, but it feels like the space between worlds. The tile is cool and calming on Jiyong’s feet, but the air grows more humid with every second. Bubbles are forming and popping in an endless cycle as the faucet fills the tub, healing eucalyptus filling his senses.

“You’re going to take a bath,” the answer was already obvious, but speaking it into existence has helped, too.

“Okay,” he raises his arms to be helped out of his shirt and kicks his shorts down his legs while using the helping hands as a balance point.

“I’ll be right back. Go ahead and get in,” and he’s off to somewhere, clicking the door behind him. Jiyong dips his left foot in to feel that the water is just shy of scalding hot, setting a pleasant tingle to his flesh. He lowers his body in slowly, leaning his head against the shower pillow that he suddenly realizes was an amazing drunk purchase. He piles bubbles into his hands and blows them away, mounds of them floating back down to rest on his stomach. The tub isn’t extraordinarily long, so when he sinks down a little further he has to bend his knees. The door clicks again around the same time he closes his eyes. He doesn’t look but he hears his drawers being opened and closed a few times and hears a thump relatively close to him.

“Sit up,” the order is soft but absolute, and he knows he should follow it. He puts his hands on the sides of the bath and scoots back, feeling a nudge at his hand. His eyes open to a few things. Firstly, his cat blinks at him with his head quirked to the side, pawing cautiously at the bubbles.

“Iye,” he meows in response, leaning back into the touch of the hand that comes to scratch behind his ears.

“Drink,” a glass of water is presented to him, the source’s attention still placed squarely on attending to the cat.

“Seunghyun,” he’s protesting, albeit meekly, as he takes the water in both hands.

“You have been in bed for God knows how long, and now you’re soaking in hot water. Drink,” he dunks his hand into the water momentarily, balling his fist around a wash cloth he had retrieved from the vanity. Iye cocks his head and watches as the relative stranger wrings water over his owners head, reaching a wary paw out to tap his forearm.

“It’s okay, baby,” Jiyong comforts, humming pleasantly at his cat’s concern. Seunghyun notices the animal’s apprehension and leans over to plant a kiss atop his head between his ears, and he purrs cheerily while lying down.

Jiyong feels his heart swell at the attention Seunghyun pays to the details. Everything from making his cat feel safe to wiping behind his ears with the wash cloth is taken care of. He leans into his touch when he begins massaging shampoo into his hair, gently scratching his scalp with his fingernails.

“Dunk your head for me,” Seunghyun says as he dips his hands in the tub to rinse the suds off.

“You’re not gonna facilitate that?” Jiyong feigns offense as he sinks down, running his hands through his hair under the water.

“I don’t have the certifications for baptisms,” he quips, but he’s pretty sure Jiyong can’t hear him from where he’s submerged. He thinks it’s okay because he got a chuckle out of it anyway. Jiyong emerges, wiping the water from his forehead before opening his eyes.

“All clean,” he announces, making cooing noises at Iye, who chirps pleasantly in return.

“No harm in diligence,” Seunghyun is squeezing a dollop of leave-in conditioner into his hand before turning his attention once again to the cat. “Isn’t that right.”

He doesn’t make a sound but looks ambivalent, and Jiyong can’t help but smile.

“Come on, Seunghyun. I never use that stuff,” he protests, but knows it means nothing. Seunghyun is already coming at him with the product.

“And that’s why your hair is so goddamned tangled,” he argues, working the product through his locks. He’s thoroughly pulling apart a knot at the crown of Jiyong’s head when he pipes up again.

“That’s just because I’ve been in bed for two days,” the confession is absentminded, and he almost doesn’t realize what he just admitted to. Seunghyun just hums in acknowledgement.

Iye is beginning to get restless and Jiyong has grown exhausted of his soak by the time his hair is in order. Seunghyun puts one arm around Jiyong’s back and allows him to hold onto the other. He leads him onto the bath mat and wraps him in a waffle style robe, patting his hair dry with a towel.

“What pajamas do you want?” he’s almost whispering, admiring Jiyong’s closed eyed grin.

“None,” he mumbles, sad when the contact Seunghyun was making with his head has ended. “Too tired to fuss.”

Seunghyun follows him out of the bathroom, smiling triumphantly when he sighs happily.

“You didn’t have to,” Jiyong isn’t looking at him, but at the turned down bed with fresh sheets.

“I wanted to. Go ahead,” he follows him to the bed and sits on the edge once he’s gotten comfortable. Seunghyun kisses him on the forehead and makes a move to stand.

“Seunghyun-ah,” there’s something like panic there; he seems to be rapidly regressing back into hopelessness.

“I’m just going to feed the cat, Jiyong,” he rubs the side of his face, smiling sadly down at him. “You know me. I’m here.”

He’s all the way to the door when he hears Jiyong whisper “I owe you everything” into the ether. He pretends he doesn’t hear it.

Iye is thankful to be attended to, but otherwise unaffected. He eats hurriedly and then hops up on the ottoman to take a bath. Seunghyun watches him for a few minutes, admiring the simplicity of him licking his paws and then passing out. Iye reminds him a lot of Jiyong, but without all the complexities. He’s soft and loving with a penchant for craving attention, but at the end of the day he lives for himself.

Seunghyun shuffles back into the bedroom, removing his clothes and folding them neatly onto the dresser.

“What took you so long?” Jiyong is peeking at him from the covers that he’s pulled up to his neck.

“Just wishing Iye a good night,” Seunghyun deals the half truth, because he doesn’t want to admit it’s starting to hurt already. He climbs into the bed and snuggles up to Jiyong, taking in the coconut smell of his conditioner.

“Thank you,” he breathes, squeezing his hand.

“It’s no problem,” Seunghyun reassures. “I like the little guy anyway.”

“Seunghyun-ah. You know what I mean,” Jiyong sounds like he could be crying, and it makes Seunghyun feel like he’s being torn apart. “I owe you my life.”

“No. You don’t owe me anything,” Seunghyun says it to Jiyong, but really he’s telling himself. He doesn’t owe him anything, and even if he did, Seunghyun isn’t sure what it would be.

**Author's Note:**

> i had this idea and it just took me over. might make a series based on Siken poems? not sure yet.  
> EDIT: hello all my dear VIPS! if you enjoy these siken series fics PLEASE consider donating to the poet who wrote the source material! in march poet Richard Siken suffered a stroke. Copper Canyon Press is fundraising for his recovery https://www.gofundme.com/f/sikenstrokerecovery


End file.
